


wake me when the night is over

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Background Lukas Waldenbeck/Rose, Canon Compliant, Episode: s01e06 The Yellow Couch, Light Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: When Lukas stumbles away from the party at six o'clock in the morning and finds Philip unconscious in the front yard, it seems like he has two choices. 1) Leave immediately and try to get back home before his dad wakes up. 2) Get Philip back to Helen and Gabe's place in one piece.He decides to try and do both.





	

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for underage drinking and for emetophobia.

By the time Lukas stumbles down the steps, he’s no longer drunk, but his mouth is still thick with the sour taste of cheap alcohol.

Daylight is just starting to peek through the trees. The clearing in front of the house is considerably quieter than it was only a few hours ago. Crumpled plastic cups and empty bottles litter the dewy grass like tombstones in a graveyard. There are a few people slumped around the scene as well, leaning against the trees or sprawled out on the porch in varying states of unconsciousness.

Lukas wishes he was passed out as well, but in his own bed.

He’d been ready to leave the party hours ago but then Rose had gotten sick, thrown up all over her shoes after one too many cups of sickly sweet punch. It'd fallen to him to get her inside to a bathroom where she could be sick to her heart's content. He'd held her hair away from her face, tried not to throw up himself, do everything that dutiful boyfriends were _supposed_ to do when their girlfriends felt like crap. 

About half an hour ago, she'd finally drifted off leaning back against his chest, and he'd carried her out to the living room, where there was a couch that was miraculously unoccupied and didn't have any alcohol spilled on it. He'd waited by her a little longer, just to make sure that she was going to be okay, before he stepped outside into the cool morning air. 

As he reaches the bottom of the steps, he can't help but stop and scan the front yard, looking for Philip. He hasn't seen him in hours, not since...

Well. Not since they humiliated him. Since _he_ humiliated him, made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Philip, not while he was with his friends. The last glimpse he'd gotten, the last glimpse he'd _allowed_ himself to have, Philip had been tripping his way down the steps to a soundtrack of jeers and insults, disappearing into the shadows beyond the reach of the lights beaming from the house's windows. 

He doesn’t see Philip among the people passed out on the lawn. He hopes that means that Philip made it back home safely, that he isn’t passed out in a ditch somewhere. 

His bike is parked along the edge of the road, and he has to cross the entire yard to get to it. He tries his best to step around fragments of glass and grass sodden with puke and spilled alcohol, but it's hard enough just forcing his eyes to stay open, let alone focus.

It's still early in the day, just barely past dawn. If he can manage to stay awake long enough to get home, he should be able to sneak in before his dad wakes up. Maybe he'll even be able to grab a few hours of shuteye before he has to go out and do the chores. 

Maybe, if he sleeps for a few hours, he'll be able to forget how Philip's face had dropped last night. How it had _plummeted._

He's just walked by a car parked in the yard, heel of his palm digging into one aching eye, when he hears someone groan faintly. Instinctively, he glances behind him, still walking towards his bike. 

When his brain finally catches up with his eyes and he realizes who he's looking at, he stops in his tracks.

"Philip?" he asks, completely turning around. The only reaction he gets is another quiet groan. 

Philip is leaning against the car, head slumped towards his chest. His long fingers are still wrapped around the thin neck of a completely empty bottle of some cheap kind of booze. Thankfully, no one drew anything on his face or stole any of his clothes, but while he's in one piece and physically unharmed, he's definitely in rough shape. 

Lukas quickly glances around the yard to make sure no one else is stirring. Thankfully, the coast is clear, so he drops to his knees in front of Philip, jeans quickly dampening from the wet grass. 

"Philip?" he asks again, wrapping one hand around Philip's shoulder and shaking gently. Philip's head swings loosely on his neck and he mumbles something totally indecipherable. He _reeks_ of alcohol. 

For one moment, Lukas wonders if this is what Philip's mom looks like mid-relapse. 

He shoves the thought away as quickly as it emerges, but its very existence further sours his stomach. 

"C'mon Philip, wake up," he mutters, putting two fingers under Philip's chin and tilting his head back. He does it a little too hard; Philip's head thunks against the body of the car and he stirs slightly, eyelashes briefly fluttering. There's crusts tucked in the corners of his eyes and either drool or spilled alcohol plastered against his cheek. 

He's a mess. And it's Lukas' fault. 

He doesn't exactly trust his friends to make sure that Philip gets home before Helen finds out that he's been gone all night and organizes a search party. Swinging by their house adds at least twenty minutes to his own trip home (and that's not counting any extra time from wiping out if he falls asleep while driving) and truthfully, he could really use every minute that he can get. 

But he can't just leave Philip on the ground. 

"Shit," he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He stands up just long enough to check and see if anyone else has awoken, but no one in the yard has stirred, and the front door is still closed from when he stepped out. He drops back down and tries to figure out his best course of action. Philip is stirring a little bit, but Lukas doesn't think he'll be fully conscious in time for him to actually move on his own. 

"Shit," he mutters again, grabbing one of Philip's limp arms and throwing it around his shoulders. He wraps one of his arms around Philip's ribs and hauls him to his feet. 

The movies make it look _so_ much easier than the reality. Philip may be composed of knobby arms and slim legs, but his dead weight is still difficult to lift. Lukas almost drops him twice before he finally manages to get him up and onto his feet. His eyes stay closed, but some part of him must know what's going on, because when Lukas starts pulling him forward, Philip's feet start moving, albeit a little jerkily.

"Lukas?" he mumbles once they're almost at the bike. His head twitches slightly, and his fingers curl into where Lukas' jacket is stretched over his shoulders. 

"Yeah, it's me," he sighs. "I'm gonna take you home." Each second that passes is a second he should be using wisely, but he can't help but stare at his bike for a few moments, just to try and figure out how exactly he's going to make this work. If Philip remains in his state of semi-consciousness for the entire ride, they might make it to Gabe and Helen's farm without incident. But if he passes out completely and lets go of Lukas...

Well, then they're going for a spill in the ditch. For now, the best Lukas can do is get Philip on the bike and hope that they make it unscathed.

"Philip, you with me?" he asks, carefully unraveling Philip's arm from around his shoulders. Philip makes a sound that kind of sounds like a _yes_ , so Lukas goes with it. "I need you to get on the bike and hold on. Can you do that?" 

"Yeah." Philip moves like he's just learning to walk, stumbles over his own feet as he crosses the four feet of grass separating him from the bike. Once he reaches it, he manages to swing one leg over the frame without incident, and Lukas moves as fast as he can, taking advantage of the fact that Philip is (mostly) awake for the time being. Thankfully, he doesn't have to remind Philip to hold on; his arms wind around Lukas' waist and lock, squeezing hard enough to make Lukas’ stomach lurch alarmingly. 

"Please don't throw up," he says, tugging on his helmet and kicking the bike into motion. 

He's not sure who the words are meant for: Philip or him. 

&. 

The roads are mostly empty at this hour, but Lukas still keeps his exhausted eyes peeled for Helen’s white jeep. Beams of sunlight cut through the trees lining the sides of the road, giving him brief rushes of warmth whenever he passes through one. He can't hear anything other than the roar of the bike in his ears, and even that is muffled from his helmet, but he's sure that there are birds singing, cows lowing in the distance, maybe echoing hammer thuds as some nearby farmer works on a project. 

It looks like it’s going to be yet another beautiful morning in Tivoli, but if he doesn't push a little faster, get Philip dropped off and get his own ass home, his dad's reaction is bound to be decisively _not_ beautiful. 

Philip's arms are, thankfully, still tightly locked around him. His head is resting heavily between Lukas' shoulder blades, bouncing and thumping against him every time they go over a crack or bump in the road. Lukas tries to divide his attention between the road and Philip, make sure that his arms don't slip away or he doesn't slump to the side and unbalance them, but there are a few moments where it takes everything he has to make sure that _he_ doesn’t fall asleep. 

He pushes the bike a little faster, and the driveway for Helen and Gabe's appears a few minutes later, trailing away from the tarmac of the main road. The sheriff's jeep is still parked in front, and the chairs lining the front porch are all empty. He cuts his speed as he pulls in, just in time; as he turns into the driveway, he feels the bike wobble as Philip fails to lean in the right direction. Thankfully, they don't tip over into the dirt, but it's a close call that makes Lukas' heart jump momentarily into his throat. 

He knows that technically, it's a new day, but since he still hasn't gone to sleep, he just wants the goddamn night to end. 

He shoves the bike's kickstand down with his foot and turns the engine off. When he tugs at Philip's interlocked arms, they fall away from his stomach, and he manages to jump off the bike just before Philip slumps over. 

This feels cruel, he thinks as he wraps his arm around Philip's waist and pulls him towards the front steps, keeping his eye on the front door and praying with everything he has that Helen and Gabe don't come running out to question him. It doesn't feel right to just dump Philip on the step like trash at the curb or discarded clothes at a thrift store. 

He should bring him inside. He should answer Helen and Gabe's questions, explain why Philip is in the state he's in. He should, at the very least, make sure that Philip is going to be okay. 

If he could do it for Rose, he should do it for Philip. 

But he can't. Not today. 

“Did we fly here?” Philip’s words are all slurred together and when Lukas twists his head to look at him, he’s met with glazed eyes that look like they could close again at any moment. Lukas can’t help but smile, but he also can’t bring himself to answer. Instead, he tightens his grip on Philip’s waist and keeps half-walking, half-dragging him up the driveway.

Once they reach the concrete steps leading up onto the house’s porch, he lowers Philip down, keeping one hand cupped around the back of his pale neck to make sure that he doesn't hit his head. Philip’s eyes are closed again, and he groans when Lukas slides his hand out from behind him. The sun is rapidly rising, and Lukas really can’t afford to stay any longer, but he also can’t bring himself to walk away without saying some kind of goodbye, even if Philip won't remember it.

"I'm sorry, Philip,” he says, keeping his voice low so Helen and Gabe don’t hear. “I-I didn't mean any of it." Philip doesn’t respond in any meaningful way, just groans again and slumps against the steps. Lukas allows himself one more moment, a moment that he spends brushing a lock of Philip’s wavy hair away from his cold forehead.

He doesn’t linger any longer. Philip's feet have left a trail in the wet grass and he follows that path back down to his bike. He shoves his helmet on, bring the bike back to life and turns on a dime, leaving a gouge in the dirt as he whips around and floors it down the driveway. He catches a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision when he turns onto the road, but he forces himself to keep his eyes forward. 

He doesn't look back.

He _can’t_ look back.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
